


Of Beauty and Faith

by yooodles



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Kissing, M/M, Nobility, Priests, Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28511154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yooodles/pseuds/yooodles
Summary: Lord Jungwoo has always lived a quiet life, alone on his estate with his mother. This all changes when he receives news of his sudden engagement to the queen's niece—or who Jungwoo knows better as the sister of the man who left the most profound impression on him six years ago.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Kim Jungwoo
Comments: 12
Kudos: 95





	Of Beauty and Faith

**Author's Note:**

> it took me two whole years to finally wrote dowoo but here we are and i'm very excited about it!! big thanks to irene for betaing!

Jungwoo squirms at the feeling of sweat dripping down his back. The afternoon sun is far too harsh to be standing under for extended periods of time and the exorbitant amount of layers of silk and velvet don’t help. He’s not normally forced to dress up like this—the climate here is too hot and humid for anything more than a loose linen shirt. He’s supposed to be _looking his best_ , which according to his mother means being wrapped up head to toe in stifling robes. 

He sighs, eyes craning to look past the end of the gate for any sign of an arriving carriage. A messenger had said they were due any second now, but Jungwoo feels as if he’s already been waiting over an hour in this heat.

A soft hand covers his, stopping him from picking at his fingernails. He looks to his right at his mother, who gives him a gentle, but warning smile before she retracts her hand. He gives her a little nod in apology and brings his hands down to rest by his sides. The urge to fidget doesn’t leave him.

“Behave,” his mother scolds lightly, “you want to make a good impression.”

Jungwoo hums and clenches his fists. He supposes he wants to make a good impression. It’s not every day you meet your betrothed for the first time. The thought rests heavily at the bottom of his stomach. He wishes he could sit down and take a moment to himself to simply _breathe._ The last two months have been a rush of hurried preparations to ensure the manor is ready for his future wife’s arrival.

He should be excited, at least that’s what everyone around him has been telling him. The proposal had come as a surprise to everyone. He might have a formidable estate, but his lordship was a minor one. He’d always expected he’d be able to choose his wife when the time came, and no one has ever blinked at eye at the numerous rejections he’s handed out to the daughters of wealthy local statesman and neighbouring Lords. Then again, he doesn’t think anyone accounted for the possibility that he’d receive a proposal from the daughter of the queen’s youngest sister.

Lady Yerim, as his mother had described to him, was beautiful, kind, and a lover of the arts. Jungwoo supposes that’s what they say about all noblewomen. They’re all one and the same to him.

“ _They’re coming,_ ” an excited whisper from an attendant on the other side of him snatches his attention, and sure enough, he spots a large, decorated carriage pulling in at the end of the road.

A flash of anxiousness runs through him as he anticipates the occupants of the carriage. He’s not particularly nervous to meet Yerim—he’d met her once before, years ago when they had visited the capital for the King’s coronation. He doesn’t remember much about her but it doesn’t really matter—it wouldn’t matter if he was marrying any other woman either.

It’s not Yerim he’s worried about, it’s her brother. While Yerim had faded to a tiny spot in his memory of the trip, he doesn’t think he could forget Doyoung if he tried, even with the limited time they had spent together. 

If he’s honest, he hadn’t paid a single second of attention to Yerim’s upcoming visit until he heard that her brother would be coming along. 

“How lucky she must be to have such a doting brother,” his mother had said, “I heard he took the oath of priesthood a few years ago. His mother must be so proud to have such a devout son.”

He had excused himself early from dinner that night, the knowledge sitting uncomfortably with him for some reason.

He wonders if Doyoung will even remember him—it’s been almost six years and they had barely spent over a week together then. Jungwoo was barely sixteen then and remembers thinking Doyoung was so much older and mature at eighteen.

The carriage rumbles as it pulls in front of the manor. Jungwoo holds his breath as an attendant walks up to open the door. The first one out of the carriage is the queen’s sister, looking very regal with a reserved smile on her face as she takes in her surroundings.

“ _Your highness,_ ” they greet her.

Yerim follows next, stepping out of the carriage hesitantly, eyes widening as she meets Jungwoo’s right away. She’s indeed grown into a beautiful young woman, and Jungwoo feels a hint of relief when he sees her eyes are kind as they greet her. He returns the shy smile she gives him and hopes they will get along.

The last to exit the carriage is Doyoung. Jungwoo bites down on the inside of his cheek as he watches the man emerge, dusting the non-existent dust off his clothes as he steps onto the gravel. He looks much like he did six years ago, yet unrecognizable at the same time. Jungwoo takes in his uniform, all black and buttoned-up right to his collar and over his neck. A glint of gold around his neck catches Jungwoo’s eye, the heavy chain as a symbol of priests in the capital. He’s a little ruffled from the journey, but with his stick-straight posture, he looks pristine. His eyes are as just as he remembered, sharp and almost glittering. 

“ _Reverend_ ,” his mother greets, catching Jungwoo off guard, but he quickly composes himself with enough time to bow along.

“ _My Lady,_ ” Doyoung’s voice is soft but clear as he greets Jungwoo’s mother, before turning to Jungwoo himself, “ _My Lord._ ”

Jungwoo feels his breath catch in his throat as Doyoung’s eyes pass over him. It’s quick—his face polite and betraying no signs of emotion or recognition. He doesn’t spare him another glance as he makes his way to join his sister’s side. Jungwoo tries to understand the feeling of disappointment that washes over him. He’s not given the chance to dwell on it for long, because his mother snaps her fingers and calls for an attendant to show their new guests to their rooms to rest after the long journey.

✦

Dinner is an awkward affair, at least for Jungwoo. They’re using the _proper_ dining table today—usually, he and his mother take their meals in Jungwoo’s quarters at his private, more _sensibly-sized_ dining table—but it’s the first feast with their new guests and it wouldn’t be his mother if she didn’t go all out. He’s been forced to sit at the esteemed _head of the table_ , which turns out to be really nothing more than the perfect spot to watch everyone else chat amongst themselves while he picks at his own food in silence.

His mother and the queen’s sister fill up most of the noise in the room, chatting animatedly about court affairs Jungwoo barely understands a fraction of. Yerim and Doyoung quietly chat with each other, their conversation just out of reach of Jungwoo’s ears.

“A toast!” his mother announces suddenly and Jungwoo almost jumps off of his seat in surprise.

He watches the rest of the table raise their glasses only to realize at the last second he’s supposed to join them. Scrambling, he picks up his own glass in time for his mother to continue talking.

“We are honoured to be joined by such company tonight and I want to take this as a chance to congratulate my son, Lord Jungwoo and the beautiful Lady Yerim on their engagement. I wish them a long and happy marriage. _Cheers_.”

A chorus of cheers echoes, followed by the sound of clinking glasses. Jungwoo pastes a tight smile on his face before he raises his glass to his lips, downing the rest of his wine.

“Thank you,” the queen’s mother speaks next, “we are very happy to be here, Jungwoo is a fine match for my Yerim. We have my son Doyoung to thank, actually.”

Jungwoo’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, glancing over Doyoung whose own eyes are trained in the general direction of his mother, face void of discernable emotion.

“ _Oh?_ ” Jungwoo’s mother asks curiously, “What do you mean by that?”

The queen’s sister smiles at her son, “He was actually the one who suggested the match. Yerim had rejected every single proposed match before him. If I’m honest, I wasn’t sure about it at first but Doyoung insisted. Seeing now how handsome and well-mannered Jungwoo is in person, I know we made the right decision.”

Jungwoo stares at Doyoung. He’d suggested the match himself? His head swirls with confusion as he tries to make sense of it, but he just ends up feeling a bit uneasy. Does this mean Doyoung remembered him? Regardless, he’s not sure what would warrant him being suggested as a match for his sister though.

Jungwoo’s mother’s eyes light up and she turns to look at Doyoung as well, “Your son must have an excellent sense. I assure you Jungwoo will make the perfect husband for your daughter.”

“I’m sure he will,” the queen’s sister agrees, “Doyoung? Would you like to say a few words since you’re the reason we’re all here?”

“Of course,” Doyoung says with a nod, “ _my Lord_ , _my dear sister—_ may God bless your union.”

This seems to satisfy their mothers who nod happily in agreement. Yerim simply gives her brother a neutral smile. Jungwoo doesn’t like how formal his title sounds on Doyoung’s lips.

“Just Jungwoo is fine,” he blurts out, before remembering where he is and tacts on at the end, “ _all of you_ , please call me Jungwoo, since we are going to be family. And thank you for your well-wishes, D—”

He stops himself, realizing he hasn’t gotten permission to call Doyoung by his name. In fact, he’s not sure how he’s supposed to address Doyoung now.

“ _Reverend_ is fine,” Doyoung cuts in and Jungwoo gulps, finding it hard to think clearly. 

“Thank you, _Reverend._ ”

✦

It’s nearly a week before Jungwoo’s mother finally decides he’s done enough in his part as the gracious host and allows him out of her sight again. He’s not used to being under such strict watch—he’s usually given full freedom to do whatever he pleases—but this time, she’d made sure to sternly warn him to be on his best behaviour at least until their guests got properly settled in.

The first thing he decides to do with his newfound freedom is to go for a swim. The lake is a short walk from the estate and is his favourite place to pass his time. He’s tired of being stuck indoors, and now that summer has begun to reach its peak, there is no time for perfect to cool down with a nice swim. 

He carefully places his towel down on a grassy spot next to the shore and begins to strip off his layers until he’s down to just a pair of loose shorts. He sighs at the bit of relief it offers from the heat. If there is one thing he’s grateful for, it’s the privacy the lake offers. No one outside the household has access and his mother has never been fond of water and their servants and attendants know to stay away when Jungwoo takes his swims.

He all but moans when he finally dips his toes in the water. It’s warmed from the sun, just enough to be comfortable. He doesn’t hesitate to dive in with a splash, eager to submerge himself in the familiar coolness. He starts off by swimming a few laps, it’s been a while since he got any sort of proper exercise and it would do him good to warm up his underused muscles. It’s not hard to get in the zone as he swims, focusing on his breath and the glide of the water against his skin, for once his mind is empty of the unwanted thoughts that have plagued him all week.

He swims until his body tires out and it is only then that he emerges again, flipping onto his back to close his eyes and rest as he floats in the center of the lake. It takes him a while to open his eyes again—a while to peel his eyelids back just enough and glance over the shore to realize he’s no longer alone. 

He flails around in shock as he struggles to orient himself and stay afloat to take a better look. The vision of black, perched silently on a large rock by the shore is unmistakable. _Doyoung_. What was he doing here?

Before Jungwoo can stop himself, he starts swimming in his direction, curiosity getting the best of him. Once he can reach the ground with his toes, he carefully wades towards Doyoung. He’s almost afraid to get too close, as if he might scare him off—but as he approaches him, he realizes Doyoung shows no signs of wanting to leave—in fact, his eyes are trained directly at Jungwoo, his gaze dark and almost serious.

Jungwoo shivers under it and stills, deciding it best to keep some distance. The water now barely reaches his hips—he feels naked under Doyoung’s gaze and he practically is, but he doesn’t move to cover himself. He doesn’t want to come off as nervous or vulnerable around Doyoung. His skin itches with an indiscernible feeling as Doyoung’s eye briefly skim over his torso.

“ _Reverend,_ ” Jungwoo greets slowly, “What are you doing here?”

The words feel stiff and clunky in his throat but Doyoung doesn’t seem to notice.

“ _My Lord_ ,” Doyoung greets back evenly and Jungwoo can’t help but sag a little at the use of his formal title, “I just thought this would be a nice spot to read my book.”

He gestures to the thick book in his lap, one that Jungwoo only now notices. He looks over Doyoung and raises an eyebrow in surprise. Why would he choose to read his book here when there were far more comfortable and shadier spots on the estate. It’s absolutely sweltering outside, yet Doyoung chooses to be here, sat on a rock in the direct sunlight, dressed head to toe in black. Jungwoo cringes at the thought.

“I’ve suffered through worse than a little heat,” Doyoung explains, sensing his confusion, “besides, I like the view.”

Jungwoo swallows, unsure why that last part makes his stomach churn. The lake _is_ beautiful but he’s not sure it’s nice enough to warrant subjecting yourself to the unforgiving summer sun. Even so, he decides it’s best not to question Doyoung.

“What are you reading?” he asks instead, glancing at the book.

Doyoung raises the book for Jungwoo to see, “ _The History of the Church_.”

Jungwoo gives him a skeptical look, not sure if he should be surprised or not, “Sounds...interesting.”

Doyoung hums, “It is. You’d be surprised the lengths man will go for his love of God.”

Jungwoo’s eyes train on Doyoung’s gold necklace, a reminder of his position. “Are you speaking from experience?” he asks hesitantly, “Would you through any lengths for your love of God?”

There’s a beat of hesitation from Doyoung as he ponders the question. His curling into a small, unreadable smile. “ _Perhaps_ , but not for God.”

Jungwoo feels more confused than before he asked, but Doyoung offers no further explanation. He struggles to come up with something else to say, not wanting the conversation to end so soon.

“ _Well,_ ” he starts slowly, “Would you...like to join me? For a swim that is.”

Doyoung almost looks amused at the question. “I’m fine, thank you,” he answers smoothly, “another time, perhaps. It’s almost time for dinner, you should probably start getting ready.”

Jungwoo bites his lip to hide his disappointment, but a quick glance at the sun tells him that Doyoung is right. He should head back to the manor now if he wants to wash up in time for dinner. 

“Right,” he says quietly, “see you at dinner, _Reverend_.”

“ _See you, My Lord._ ”

Jungwoo gives him one last nod before he swims off towards the spot he left his towel and clothes. He throws his clothes on quickly and starts back towards the manor—but not before sneaking one last peek at Doyoung, who sits unmoving on the rock, face buried in his book. 

✦

Jungwoo takes his lunch in his own quarters today, and he would be relieved after a week of overly lavish meals in the dining hall, if not for the fact that he’s not eating alone. Their mothers think Jungwoo and Yerim should be given a chance to spend some quality time together—with a chaperone, of course. Jungwoo doesn’t know whether to think of it as a blessing or a curse that it is Doyoung that joins them.

He doesn’t know what to expect. In the week that they’ve been here, it’s never been just the three of them alone—or four if he counted Yerim’s lady’s hovering maid, who doesn’t fail to cut in every few minutes to fill Yerim’s glass or offer her a napkin. Jungwoo watches their exchange in amusement, he thinks if it were him he’d be irritated by such a dedicated servant, but Yerim seems to be enjoying the attention very much.

“Stop it, Sooyoung,” she giggles lightly, hand moving to cover her glass when her lady’s maid, _Sooyoung_ , moves to refill it, “I can’t drink any more wine, it’s barely midday.”

Sooyoung pouts but moves away from her cup. She’s about to put the pitcher down when Doyoung speaks up.

“I’ll have more wine, Sooyoung,” he says, holding up his glass and giving her one of his rare, genuine smiles Jungwoo has only seen him give his sister.

Sooyoung narrows her eyes and Jungwoo thinks he might be seeing things as he watches her stick out her tongue at Doyoung as well. Nevertheless, she walks up and refills his glass, right up to the brim. 

“Would you like some more wine as well, Lord Jungwoo?” she asks, and Jungwoo declines, figuring she probably only asked out of courtesy.

She sets the pitcher back down on the counter and starts to walk back to her place behind Yerim.

“Please Sooyoung,” Doyoung speaks again, “sit down and join us. I know you haven’t eaten yet.”

Doyoung turns to look at Jungwoo, “You don’t mind, do you?”

Jungwoo has to hold back from gaping at Doyoung’s request—it was beyond odd to invite a lady’s maid to join you to eat. Sooyoung looks hesitant, even as Yerim is already pulling out the seat next to her, and repeatedly telling her to sit down. She only finally takes the seat after Jungwoo gives her a bewildered nod. 

“Go ahead,” he says slowly, because he really doesn’t mind, regardless of how strange it is. 

Yerim immediately shoves her own plate in front of Sooyoung, shoving a fork in her hand and instructing her to eat. _Odd indeed._

In fact, this whole meal has been a bit unexpected—but not in a bad way. It’s the first time he’s been privy to the relationship between Doyoung and Yerim away from their mother and he’s a bit surprised to find that they act— _well,_ like siblings. It’s fascinating to watch the banter between them—in one breath Yerim manages to make fun of Doyoung’s clothes, steal food off his plate, and invite him out for a stroll. Jungwoo thinks this is the most relaxed he’s ever seen Doyoung the entire time he’s here—eating his food comfortably as he entertains his sisters' antics.

Conversation flows surprisingly well. Yerim, as he quickly discovers, is far more outgoing than she shows in front of her mother. She makes an effort to include Jungwoo and ask him questions. Jungwoo thinks they will make good friends, _husband and wife on the other hand_ —he still needs to figure out.

The hardest part of the lunch is holding himself back from staring at Doyoung, particularly because he’s seated directly across from him. He looks much like he always does, same black garments and gold chain—Jungwoo doesn’t know why he finds him so endlessly fascinating but every single time he looks at him he seems to find something new about him.

Today, it’s the scar by the corner of his lips—he doesn’t remember it being there six years ago. He spends a good few minutes studying it before he realizes it looks an awful lot like he’s been staring at Doyoung’s lip this entire time. He clears his throat loudly at the realization, immediately casting his eyes downwards, landing on Doyoung’s hands—his fingers long and nimble as he handles his knife and fork. Jungwoo lets out a breath, _even his hands were fascinating_.

He can’t quite bring himself to look away from Doyoung completely and deems this a safer place to rest his eyes. His eyes catch on something peeking out from under Doyoung’s sleeve—a bracelet. He studies it absent-mindedly as Doyoung moves his hands and it slips further down his sleeve. It’s an ornate piece, made up of what looks to be deep, sparkling emeralds set in a bed of gold. He’s almost entranced as he watches the bracelet slide around on Doyoung’s wrist. It’s not the kind of jewelry he’d expect a priest to wear—it’s flashy and opulent, much unlike the simple gold chain on his neck.

He must have been staring hard because his fixation on the bracelet does not escape the rest of the table’s notice.

“You like his bracelet, don’t you?” Yerim remarks and Jungwoo’s head shoots up to meet her eyes in surprise.

Yerim smiles at him pleasantly. “My brother may be a man of God now but he hasn’t lost his affinity for pretty things.”

She gives Jungwoo a pointed look that he doesn’t quite understand, so he decides to ignore it. Doyoung snorts lightly but turns his wrist over as if to admire the bracelet.

“It’s very beautiful,” Jungwoo breathes out in agreement, watching the emeralds glint as they catch the light.

Doyoung hums to himself and a second later, retracts his wrist, tucking the bracelet back in his sleeve and out of view. Jungwoo misses it already.

The rest of the meal peters out in light chatter, mostly between Yerim and Sooyoung. Doyoung doesn’t say another word, save for a quick thanks when he takes his leave.

✦

Jungwoo is absolutely drained by the time he finally retires to his room. He’s barely exerted himself today, yet all he wants to do is collapse on his bed and be taken away by blissful unconsciousness. His body might not have done much but his mind has been running in circles all day. He feels mentally exhausted in between entertaining the guest, trying to make sense of everything around him, and avoiding the unwanted thoughts that haven’t stopped creeping into his head all week.

He’s already stripped down and changed into a comfy sleepshirt, about to climb into bed when he first notices it—a small wooden box placed in the center of his bed. 

Jungwoo sits down at the edge of the bed and picks it up to take a closer look. It only takes one glance to know it doesn’t belong to him. It’s about the size of his palm and intricately, decorated with pretty little carvings. He looks around the room in search of any clues as to how it might have gotten here—he tries to remember if his mother mentioned anything earlier but draws a blank.

He frowns and carefully opens the lid. He knows he should wait until tomorrow, until he can call a servant to properly assess it for him first as it could be dangerous to handle an unknown object, but something about the box makes Jungwoo anxious to open it _now_.

His eyes widen and a choked gasp escapes his lips when he immediately recognizes the contents. Holding his breath, he gingerly takes the bracelet out of the box—it’s the one Doyoung wore earlier at lunch, the very same Jungwoo couldn’t take his eyes off.

His head pounds as he traces over the emeralds—it’s even prettier up close. He doesn’t know what to think—he doesn’t know how it got here or what role Doyoung played in getting it to him. His mind is a mess of nervousness and excitement. 

He wants to try it on. 

Jungwoo discards the box on his bedside table—he bites his lip as he fastens the bracelet around his wrist, unable to tamp down the sense of giddiness that runs through him. 

_It’s just a bracelet,_ he tells himself as he curls up under his sheets, _no matter who it’s from._

That night Jungwoo falls asleep with his wrist held against his chest and a small smile on his face.

✦

Jungwoo wears the bracelet out the next day—half because he wants to see Doyoung’s reaction and half because he can’t bear to take it off yet. He purposely chooses a shirt with loose sleeves to ensure the bracelet is on full display. 

At breakfast, they notice it right away—both Yerim and Doyoung. Yerim tilts her head curiously and offers Jungwoo an amused smile. Doyoung doesn’t show nearly as much of a reaction, merely letting his eyes rest on Jungwoo’s wrist for a beat longer than normal before turning back to his food.

Jungwoo ignores his disappointment and hides his hand under the table for the rest of the meal.

✦

“I was thinking we could hold a fall wedding,” Jungwoo’s mother muses over dinner.

Jungwoo purses his lips. _More wedding talk_. It’s the last thing he wants to hear when he’s trying to enjoy his meal. At least he only has to sit through one more week before their guests are due to return to the capital. 

The queen’s sister nods along, “I agree. The weather will be milder and it gives us just enough time to prepare.”

Jungwoo frowns, “It'll be fall in a few months.”

“Exactly,” his mother says, “The sooner the wedding happens, the better.”

Jungwoo lets out a breath, he hadn’t expected everything to be happening so quickly. It was typical practice for engagements to drag on at least a year and Jungwoo had that would be the case with his own.

The queen’s sister hums in agreement, “At this rate, we can hopefully expect your child by next summer.”

Jungwoo’s insides twist and he uses all his will to not grimace. He chances a glance at Yerim who seems equally uncomfortable with the conversation as he is. Growing up the son of a Lord, he has known all his life the expectation to produce an heir—but it’s always been something he’s shrugged off to worry about in the distant future. Even with his engagement, he figured he would have at least a few years to figure it out.

Now that the prospect was staring at him right in the face—he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s the first time since they received Yerim’s proposal that this whole affair has felt so real.

He was getting married. To a woman he barely knows and expected to have a child with her. All the while having to deal with her brother standing right by her side—the man who won’t stop invading his thoughts every waking _and_ sleeping moment. He tries and fails to drown out the sound of their mothers chattering excitedly about wedding ideas.

Jungwoo feels queasy.

The chair scrapes loudly against the floor as he pushes out of his seat. Everyone at the table turns to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” Jungwoo apologizes with a bow, “I’m not feeling so good. I think I’m going to head to bed early.”

His mother gives him a concerned look, “Have you caught a cold? I’ve been telling you to not go out swimming so often.”

“It’s not that,” Jungwoo shrugs her off, “I just need some sleep and I’ll be better in the morning.”

His mother sighs but dismisses him with a nod. Jungwoo thanks her and gives the table one last apology before he excuses himself out of the dining hall.

He starts walking towards his quarters—his stomach still turns in uneasiness. He pauses mid-step and makes the split-second decision to head towards the back door instead. If he goes back to his room, he’ll only lie in bed and continue to stew in his thoughts for the rest of the night. He needs some fresh air.

It’s really no surprise that his legs take him to the lake. The water always did have a way of calming him down. It’s too late for a swim—the sun is already starting to set over the horizon—but just the sight of the lake and he can feel some of the tension start to drain out of his bones.

It’s muscle memory the way he slips off his boots and rolls up the hem of his pants. He finds a grassy spot along the shore and settles down there, the bank raised just enough for him to dip his feet into the water. He tries not to think about dinner—about his future; the engagement; the goddamn emerald bracelet still wrapped around his wrist. He takes a deep breath of the evening air and instead focuses on the water splashing at his ankles. 

Jungwoo doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there when he hears footsteps coming up from behind him. He doesn’t want to turn around. It’s most likely a servant coming to remind him to return before it gets too dark to find his way back.

For a moment, as he listens to the footsteps get louder, he wonders if it could possibly be Doyoung. His mind flashes back to the other day he found Doyoung at the lake and his heart does a little skip at the thought. 

Unfortunately, _or maybe fortunately_ , his mysterious companion makes themselves known before Jungwoo can spiral too far into the idea.

“Jungwoo?”

Jungwoo whips his head around in surprise at the voice. It’s Yerim. She’s probably the last person he’d expected to see out here. Her face lights up in a small smile when she confirms it is him. 

“Hi,” she says, “mind if I join you?”

It’s a pointless question—seeing as she doesn’t wait for an answer before she’s already starting to pull off her shoes and stockings. Nevertheless, he gives her a nod and slides over to give her room to sit next to him. She smiles and gets down to join him, maneuvering her mess of skirts to the side as not to get them wet.

She sighs, splashing the water lightly with her toes, “It’s nice out here.”

Jungwoo hums, keeping his eyes focused on the trees in the horizon, “It’s a good place for thinking.”

“What are _you_ thinking of?”

From his peripheral vision, he can see that she’s turned to face him. Jungwoo presses his lips into a thin line. He debates if he should tell her the truth. If anyone deserves it, it’s Yerim—the woman who is about to agree to be tied to him for the rest of her life.

“I don’t want to marry you.”

It’s honest—the most honest he’s been in weeks.

Yerim doesn’t say anything back at first. For a second Jungwoo regrets his confession. If Yerim tells her mother what he’s told her, it could shatter the entire engagement. His mother would be devastated and it would probably ruin their reputation with the royals forever. There is no room for his selfishness.

“I don’t want to marry you either.”

Her reply takes him off guard, he can’t help but turn to face her. Her expression is gentle with no traces of anger or sadness. He doesn't understand how she can be so calm about it all.

“Then why did you agree to offer your hand in the first place?” Jungwoo asks, “I remember your mother saying you’ve rejected prospective matches before.”

Yerim holds his gaze for a few moments before she drops hers down to focus on something else instead. It only takes a second for Jungwoo to realize she’s looking at the bracelet. 

“I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but this marriage will be good for both of us,” her voice is so steady Jungwoo almost wants to believe her, “ _Have faith._ ”

✦

They make it back to the manor just in time to see the last traces of daylight disappear into the night. Jungwoo walks her to the main hall before they bid each other good night and part ways. He’s grateful that the halls are empty of people—they may be engaged but he rather not have the servants starting rumours about him being seen alone with Yerim. He heads towards his quarters.

Jungwoo stops in front of the door to his bedroom. _It’s closed_. He frowns to himself—he never closes it when he’s out. He likes to keep it open during the day to allow air to circulate and keep it cool. He doubts it was one of the servants—they’ve all worked here long enough to know his preferences.

Carefully, he closes his hand around the doorknob and slowly pushes it open slightly. He cautiously takes a peek inside.

A man stands in the center of the room, waiting with his hands clasped in front of him. Jungwoo sucks in a breath and quickly shuffles inside, closing the door tightly behind him—it’s not just any man, it’s Doyoung.

“ _Do—_ ” Jungwoo bites his tongue when he remembers, “ _Reverend._ What are you doing here?” 

Doyoung seems taken aback by the question, lips falling open slightly as if he’s been caught somewhere he shouldn’t be and doesn’t quite know himself why he’s there. He doubts that’s the case though, because clearly, Doyoung has been waiting for Jungwoo with a purpose, likely for some time already.

“I—” he starts after a breath, taking a small step towards Jungwoo, “I wanted to check on you.”

Jungwoo gives him a confused look. “ _What?_ ” he asks quietly.

Doyoung sighs and takes a few more steps. Jungwoo remains frozen in place— he can feel the hair stand on the back of his neck and heat start to creep into his cheeks as Doyoung gets closer. He stops, leaving a half-step between them. It’s the closest they’ve been this entire time. He’s almost surprised to find he has to look down slightly to meet his eyes. He knows he’s not considered short by any means but it’s a new revelation that he’s taller than Doyoung. The way Doyoung carries himself is so perfect and put-together and grand, he can’t help but feel smaller. Six years ago, it would have been Doyoung looking down at him instead.

“Earlier at dinner,” Doyoung explains, “You said you weren’t feeling well. I wanted to make sure you were okay. You weren’t in your room though when I checked so I decided to wait.”

Jungwoo can feel his heart beating so loudly in his chest he worries Doyoung might hear it too. 

“ _Oh,_ ” he says, “I’m sorry. I went out for a walk to get some fresh air.”

Doyoung shakes his head, “No, don’t apologize. As long as you’re alright. I hope the walk helped you feel a bit better.”

His words are so gentle and sincere it makes Jungwoo’s head spin. “I do,” he breathes out, “Thank you for checking.”

The corners of Doyoung’s lips crack into the smallest of smiles but it’s enough to make Jungwoo’s stomach flip. “I’m glad,” he says softly.

Jungwoo nods because that’s all he can do right now. His breath catches in his throat when Doyoung raises one of his hands, delicately reaching towards his face. He stops just short of grazing his cheek—Jungwoo thinks he can feel the warmth of his fingertips from where they hover over his skin. He wants badly to lean into his touch, to close the measly distance—but at the same time, he also feels afraid to move even the slightest muscle. 

Jungwoo can read the hesitation on his Doyoung’s features, he can practically hear the debate he must be having with himself inside his head. 

Ultimately, he chooses to bring his hand down—but instead of letting it fall back to his side, he reaches for Jungwoo’s wrist instead. Jungwoo’s breath hitches as Doyoung gingerly wraps his fingers around it and tilts it just enough to bring the bracelet into view. It burns where Doyoung touches him. 

“You’re still wearing it,” he says, his gaze is deep and intense.

Jungwoo makes a weak noise of affirmation. Doyoung’s thumb grazes over an emerald and Jungwoo uses all his will-power to keep his hand relaxed. Doyoung turns his wrist over and takes his time to admire it all around.

“It suits you,” he says softly—resolutely, before finally dropping his hand.

Jungwoo’s head pounds and he mourns the loss of Doyoung’s touch.

All too soon, Doyoung steps back, clearing his throat as he smooths out the front of his shirt.

“I should let you sleep,” he says, walking towards the door.

Jungwoo wants to tell him not to go, but he struggles to figure out how to use his own voice. His mind flails as he watches Doyoung take a hold of the doorknob, pausing to look back at Jungwoo one last time. His eyes are so easy and fond that Jungwoo feels his insides turn to liquid.

“Goodnight, _Jungwoo_ ,” he says and the liquid boils. 

The sound of his name on Doyoung’s lips is just as good as he’d remembered. 

With a final nod, Doyoung turns the knob and steps out. Jungwoo’s heart clenches as the door closes once more. The room suddenly feels emptier than it’s ever before.

“ _Goodnight, Doyoung._ ”

✦

It’s the last dinner before their guests return to the capital and all Jungwoo feels is dread. He should be out in the dining hall, but instead, he sits holed up in his room wondering why his heart feels like it’s being torn to bits. He feigned illness again, unable to bring himself to sit through a full meal in this state.

An attendant had brought him a tray of food, but it lays untouched on his table. Jungwoo doesn’t think he can stomach any food right now. Whatever this horribleness is that he’s feeling, he just hopes he’ll be able to sleep it off in time to give their guests a proper send-off in the morning. 

As physically and mentally awful he does feel, a tiny part of him had wondered, hoped even, that if he pretended to be sick again, maybe, just maybe, Doyoung would come to check up on him again. He doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s the only reason he hasn’t tried to sleep yet. On the off-chance that Doyoung does show up, the last thing he wants is to miss him by falling asleep. Doyoung is leaving tomorrow and Jungwoo isn’t ready to part with him yet.

Suddenly, a sound pulls him out of his own mind and he sits up just in time to see a slip of paper slide under the crack of his door. His eyes widen and he scrambles off his bed to grab it from the ground. His heart leaps as he rips open the seal. It _has_ to be from _him_. 

His eyes scan the note.

_Meet me in the library at midnight._

Jungwoo lets out a breath—of relief, maybe—and clutches the note close to him. The dread in his chest feels a little less heavy.

✦

Jungwoo leaves his bedroom at a quarter to midnight. He knows it’s a little too early but the waiting is making him antsy. He doesn’t know what Doyoung wants— _or maybe he does_ —he’s not sure which one makes him more nervous.

The library is on the far side of the manor, the furthest away from the bedrooms. Jungwoo is certain Doyoung’s choice of meet-up location is no coincidence. It’s rarely used these days—no one really visits the library except for a servant every once in a while to dust. Neither he nor his mother are big readers.

He pushes gently at the door, wincing at the creak it makes as it opens. It’s empty as expected. He feels slightly relieved—this gives him a chance to calm himself down before Doyoung arrives. 

A book sits on the heavy desk in the center of the room. Jungwoo moves to take a closer look. It’s odd for anything to be out of place in the rarely-used library. He inhales sharply when he recognizes it, fingers automatically reaching out to trace the thick letters decorating the cover. 

_The History of the Church._ It’s Doyoung’s book. 

His heart jumps, not at the book itself though, but rather at the white ribbon tucked between the pages as a bookmark. He pulls it out gently with a little, recognizing the embroidered right way. It’s _his_ ribbon, from one of his favourite shirts. He recalls last wearing it on the day Doyoung caught him swimming. He shakes his head in disbelief, it must have come loose and fallen off while he was changing.

His heart races to think that Doyoung found it and kept it all this time. Jungwoo is so lost in his own thoughts he doesn’t hear the footsteps come up behind them—doesn’t hear anything until he feels a pair of hands come to rest on either side of his waist. Jungwoo gasps loudly at the sudden, unexpected touch—dropping the ribbon and immediately spinning around only to lose all in his lungs when he finds Doyoung standing right in front of him, hands still resting on his waist and face barely an inch from his face.

“Hi,” Doyoung says—his voice smooth and velvet and making Jungwoo’s stomach curl.

“ _Hi_ ,” Jungwoo replies, voice barely a whisper.

Doyoung smiles and Jungwoo thinks his face is starting to inch closer. He feels warm all the way from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears. He wants to tremble under his gaze.

“I was going to wait,” Doyoung says, the heat of his breath barely dancing on his lips, “but I don’t think I can go before I do this.”

The tip of his nose grazes Jungwoo’s and if his brain still worked he might try to understand what Doyoung means. It doesn’t matter though, because a second later there are lips on his lips and the rest of the world ceases to exist.

His mind shuts off but his body starts to move on its own accord and instinct takes over. He gasps into the feeling of Doyoung’s hot mouth, his lips moving to kiss him back greedily—as if it was the one thing he built to do.

Doyoung’s hands tighten around his waist as he groans in deep-seated satisfaction—the sound echoing in Jungwoo’s bones. Jungwoo whines in reply, arms winding to wrap around Doyoung's neck to bring him closer, because he _needs_ him closer. Doyoung easily obliges leaning into Jungwoo’s pull and pressing his whole body flush against him, pushing his back into the edge of the table.

His lips taste like fire and gold, a combination so addicting and exquisite, he doesn’t know how he’s survived so long without it. Doyoung’s tongue licks into this mouth, messy and hungry—just as desperate as Jungwoo feels. His knees have long given out and he’d be a puddle on the floor if it weren’t being propped up and pinned in place between Doyoung and the table.

A gentle hand cups the side of his cheek and Jungwoo eagerly leans into the touch. Doyoung starts to pull his head back and Jungwoo diligently tries to chase after him, only to be held in place by his hand. Their lips part with a wet smack and it’s only as Jungwoo gasps in lungfuls of air that he realizes he’d forgotten to breathe.

Just as soon as the oxygen returns to his brain does the disappointment from the loss of his lips set in. He whines, tilting his head forward, but again, Doyoung holds him in place. The awestruck smile on his face melts any of his objections.

His eyes skip over Doyoung’s face, from his swollen pink lips to his shining eyes. He takes in every single freckle and line, every mole and eyelash. As his gaze reaches his neck, he realizes something is different. 

For the first time, he’s not wearing his uniform. He’s in what looks to be a thin, white sleep-shirt instead. The column of his long, pale is on full display—what’s more, his collar is untied to reveal a hint of his chest and collarbones as well. Doyoung still wears his gold chain, but now it rests directly on his bare skin. The sight makes Jungwoo’s insides burn. He feels like he’s looking at something he shouldn’t be.

“Your shirt,” he says dumbly, unable to peel his eyes off of the slight curve of his chest.

“Ah,” he says, voice tinkling with amusement, “it gets a little stifling to wear the uniform all day. Besides, I think I look better like this.”

Jungwoo agrees whole-heartedly, eyes flickering back up to his lips. He wants to kiss Doyoung again. 

So he does—Doyoung’s lips meet him right in the middle. 

It’s gentler this time—Doyoung is more controlled in the way he tilts Jungwoo’s head back and consumes him. Even so, the slide of his lips is no less dizzying. He could spend the rest of the night— _no_ , the rest of his life kissing Doyoung. 

He all but whimpers when he feels a warm hand creep under his shirt and slide over his stomach, around the curve of his waist and up his back, leaving a trail of unbearable heat on his bare skin. Doyoung sucks on his bottom lip, teeth grazing the swollen flesh. He pulls back for just a second and Jungwoo prepares to object, only for his mind to empty once again when Doyoung reattaches his lips on the underside of his jaw.

The new sensation sends shivers down Jungwoo’s spine, particularly when his tongue traces the spot right under his ear. He never thought he could feel so good. Doyoung continues his journey down the column of his neck, nipping and sucking lightly at the skin. He itches for Doyoung to suck harder, to bite down harsh enough to leave a mark. He bares his neck in an attempt to entice him, but Doyoung is cautious. Can’t let their mothers see, or worse Yerim.

_Yerim._

Reality crashes over him like a bucket of ice water. He gasps loudly, pushing Doyoung away with a rough shove to his shoulders. He stumbles back a few steps, looking visibly shaken, but any shock on his features quickly melts into worry at the sight of Jungwoo’s distress.

“ _Woah,_ ” Doyoung says, quickly closing the distance between them again and resting a gentle hand on his arm in comfort, “What’s wrong?”

Jungwoo is too weak to shake his touch off again. He swallows and shakes his head, “I’m marrying your sister.”

“I know,” Doyoung says, tilting his head to the side—he doesn’t look upset at all, “I was the one who suggested the match in the first place.”

Jungwoo frowns, his mind finally starting to put the pieces together. All this time he wondered why Doyoung wanted him to marry Yerim. It makes sense now, he wanted Jungwoo to marry his sister so he could be close to him. A bad feeling settles within him—he couldn’t do that Yerim. Doyoung continues to look unaffected. Did he not feel guilty at all?

He shakes his head again, “I can’t. I would be using her.”

Doyoung gives him a confused look, “Do you feel guilty about it? Because don’t, she’d be using you just as much as you’d be using her.”

Doyoung’s hand moves from Jungwoo’s arm to his face, his knuckles delicately caressing his cheek. The touch calms him down more than he’d like to admit.

_She’d be using him just as much as he’d using her._

Realization dawns on Jungwoo as the memory of the last few weeks rushes back to him—the conversation at the lake where Yerim confessed she didn’t want to marry him either—the fact that she seemed to be in on the whole bracelet affair—her unusual relationship with her _lady’s maid_. 

“You planned this purpose,” Jungwoo says, “with Yerim.”

Doyoung nods, eyes glimmering with what looks like hope. “I asked you to meet today so I could explain everything,” he starts, eyes glancing at Jungwoo’s lips sheepishly, “but I got a little carried away when I saw you.”

Jungwoo has always known the expected future for him. He hasn’t always looked forward to it, but he’s always accepted it as the only way—that became all the more real with his engagement to Yerim. Now to hear that he has another path, one where he doesn’t have to live the rest of his days with a woman he doesn’t love—Jungwoo is afraid, _hopeful_ , but afraid nonetheless.

“It’s risky,” he says, “what if we get caught?”

“I won’t let that happen,” Doyoung promises, “I have an estate in the countryside—we can all live there together—you, me, Yerim, and Sooyoung. No will bat an eye—to everyone else it’ll only look like a husband and wife, with her lady’s maid and her brother the priest.”

It sounds good, _too good to be true_. He remembers the conversation between their mothers at dinner.

“They expect us to have children,” he says quietly—the idea still makes him queasy.

Doyoung shrugs, unconcerned, “You wouldn’t be the first couple to know infertility. You can always adopt—plenty of orphans out there who could use a home.”

He can almost picture it, little feet running through the halls—they could raise them _together_. The thought of having children has always been an uneasy thought, but now, _like this_ , he almost yearns for it. 

“But—” he’s floundering for more excuses, he wants to say yes, but he needs Doyoung to make sure there’s no reason to say no, “you’re a _priest_.”

He couldn’t expect a man of God to take on a male lover, _could he_? Even as he says it out loud, he realizes how weak of an excuse that is. Doyoung seems to agree with the way he chuckles lightly at the words.

“It’s more convenient this way,” Doyoung explains, sounding awfully nonchalant about it, “I don’t need to worry about people trying to marry me off when I’m already married to God,”

Jungwoo lets out a laugh of disbelief. It’s the most sacrilegious thing he’s ever heard and Jungwoo has never been more relieved in his entire life.

“You’ve really thought this through haven’t you?”

Doyoung nods. “I’ve had years to figure it out,” he says and laces both of his hands with Jungwoo’s, “Six years ago, I met a boy who made me realize I want to be happy. _We_ can be happy.”

Doyoung gives his hands a squeeze and it makes Jungwoo want to believe him. He put everything into planning this life for them.

“What if I don’t agree?” he can’t help but ask out of curiosity, “What if I don’t want to be with you?”

He regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth with the way Doyoung’s face falls. He doesn’t pull away, but the hold on his hands falters.

“Then,” Doyoung says, throat visibly clenching as he swallows, “we’ll break off the engagement and I’ll ensure no fault falls to you. We’ll leave tomorrow and you’ll never have to see us again.”

Jungwoo unconsciously starts shaking his head and holding their entwined hands tighter. That’s the last thing he wants. “ _No,_ ” he whispers, “I don’t want that.”

It feels like a breath of fresh air the way Doyoung’s features instantly brightens. 

“Does that mean…” his voice trails off, expectant.

Jungwoo bites his lip. He wants to be with Doyoung—probably has since he was sixteen—and here the universe is, giving him that chance he never knew he could have. He could be happy, he could be in love—start a family even. He looks down at their joined hands, his bracelet glinting in the moonlight.

“I want to be happy,” he says, because he wants so badly to be happy.

“ _I_ can make you happy, I promise,” he says, “if you’ll have me.”

The surety in his voice feels like an anchor, and the bracelet on his wrist, an oath. He doesn’t trust his own voice to answer so he kisses him instead—he kisses him because it’s the only way he knows how to best convey his meaning and it’s been too long since he’s felt Doyoung’s lips on his. He kisses him and it feels like a promise—like he’s locking in every assurance for their future life together and swearing on it. He kisses him because he wants to memorize every inch of Doyoung to remember and hold onto until they can see each other next.

Doyoung is leaving tomorrow, but Jungwoo doesn’t feel dread—because this will be the last time he has to say goodbye again.

✦ _six years ago_ ✦

Doyoung rides fast, maneuvering his horse through the maze of brush and trees with ease. Jungwoo doesn’t ride often—his grip on the reigns is clumsy and his body is starting to get sore—but he’s determined to keep up with him and slightly worried that if he loses sight of Doyoung, he never be able to find his way back to the castle by himself.

They’re out hunting today, as suggested by Doyoung. While Jungwoo himself wasn’t too fond of the idea of shooting animals down for sport, his mother thought it would be a great opportunity for Jungwoo to get out more.Besides, Doyoung had insisted, saying they needed to do something fun for Jungwoo’s last day in the capital. All it took was one smile and expectant look and Jungwoo found himself nodding in agreement before he even realized what he was getting himself into.

Now he’s got a bow strapped to his back, struggling to follow Doyoung as they ride deeper and deeper into the unfamiliar woods. 

Jungwoo hadn’t quite expected his first trip to the capital to go like this. In Jungwoo’s sixteen years, he’d never ventured beyond his own estate and neighbouring villages so the prospect of going down for an affair as grand as the King’s coronation was both exciting and daunting. And although the new sights and smells had been overwhelming at first, apart from the feasts and festivals, it turned out to be a more boring trip than he’d anticipated. 

The ceremonies were long and tiresome and the dances held each night weren’t so fun when he felt too shy to ask any of the ladies to dance. His mother often left him to his own devices, busy socializing with the other ladies of the court. 

His only saving grace came in the unexpected form of the queen’s nephew, Lord Doyoung, who made it his mission to keep Jungwoo sufficiently entertained throughout with his easy company and cheeky jokes about the royal family.

Doyoung stops them when they reach a small clearing. Tucked in the middle of the woods, Jungwoo never imagined such a spot could exist—flat and grassy, surrounded by a seemingly perfect ring of tall trees that let in just enough sparse rays of the morning sun. 

They dismount and tie their horses to a nearby tree, and Doyoung sets to work untying a large basket he has fixed to the back of his horse. Jungwoo wonders if this is where they’ll set up to hunt—he’s not too sure how the whole process works so he hangs back and lets Doyoung to the work.

To his surprise, Doyoung unfastens his bow from his back and throws it on the ground in a careless heap. He gestures for Jungwoo to do the same. 

“Here,” Doyoung instructs, pulling some sort of fabric from his basket, “help me lay this out on the grass.”

Jungwoo walks towards him automatically, grasping one end of what he quickly realizes is a blanket. Doyoung sits down on the blanket as soon as it’s laid out and looks up at Jungwoo, as if expecting him to do the same. Hesitantly, Jungwoo takes a seat next to Doyoung.

“What’s this for?” he asks curiously, “I thought we were going hunting.”

Doyoung’s eyes glimmer with amusement, hands moving quickly to pull out more things from the basket, which look to be an assortment of wrapped food and fruit.

“You didn’t really think I was going to take you hunting, did you?”

Jungwoo glances at the discarded bows and gives him a confused look, “ _What_?”

“It was just an excuse so they’d let us leave the castle,” Doyoung shrugs, tossing an apple to Jungwoo, “I hate hunting. Wasn’t sure if your mother would have agreed if I said I wanted to have a picnic.”

Jungwoo bites on his lip to stop the smile that threatens to spread on his face as he looks down at the apple in his hands. His stomach is a swirling mix of relief at the fact they won’t actually be hunting and shyness at the idea Doyoung lied to his mother and brought him all the way out here just to go on a picnic with him.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he says timidly, wishing there was a way he could express his appreciation.

“I wanted to,” Doyoung assures him with a gentle smile, “I thought you’d like it.”

Jungwoo nods dumbly, hoping his cheeks don’t look as red as they feel. It doesn’t help that Doyoung’s gaze has gone hard, piercing almost as his eyes skip over Jungwoo’s face. He can’t stop himself from looking back, taking in Doyoung’s face as well—one he has admittedly found himself staring at an embarrassing amount this past week.

Truth be told, the first time Jungwoo saw Doyoung, he thought he was a prince. He certainly looked the part, with his sharp, glittering eyes, high cheekbones, and thin, curved lips. He still remembers his surprise that first day in the capital when that prince went straight up to Jungwoo the moment he caught him looking and introduced himself without hesitation.

He nearly flinches when a hand reaches out to brush at his bangs, gently sweeping them away from his face. 

Doyoung tilts his head slightly, eyes gleaming, “I think you’re the beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Jungwoo’s lips fall open in shock and he quickly averts his eyes to focus on a corner of the blanket. He’s never been called beautiful before—handsome, sure, but never beautiful. It’s not however, the compliment itself that catches him off guard, but how much he likes how the words from Doyoung make him feel. His heart thuds loudly in his chest.

The touch of warm fingers under his chin has Jungwoo sucking in a stuttered breath as his face is once again lifted to meet Doyoung’s. 

“Don’t hide,” he says softly, “I’m telling the truth.”

Jungwoo gulps. His face burns and his insides bubble with an unfamiliar feeling. 

He belatedly realizes Doyoung is staring at his mouth—he finds his own eyes dropping to Doyoung’s lips too before he can stop himself. 

Doyoung leans in. 

The kiss is gentle and brief—barely a soft press of the lips but it leaves Jungwoo’s head reeling in shock and awe. He feels as if the ground has suddenly been pulled out from under him and he has half a mind to pull Doyoung in again and reconnect their lips to get a proper feel. 

“Sorry,” Doyoung says, rubbing the back of his neck, “I shouldn’t have done that without asking.”

“No,” Jungwoo assures him, suddenly feeling panicked at the way Doyoung physically starts to move away from him, “It’s okay.”

“ _I liked it,_ ” he blurts out. 

_I want to do it again,_ Jungwoo wants to add. 

Doyoung freezes and Jungwoo’s chest tightens at the way his face blooms into a brilliant smile.

“Me too,” Doyoung says quietly, fingers skim across the blanket to capture Jungwoo’s hand, “I wish I could have you all to myself.”

For a moment, Jungwoo wants to agree—readily willing to give himself over to Doyoung. But then he remembers who they are, and where they are, and the excitement fluttering in his stomach turns stale.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he whispers, quickly realizing he’s nowhere near ready to say goodbye.

Doyoung does a much better job at holding back his disappointment than Jungwoo, but Jungwoo still notices the sad shift in his eyes. He scooches the slightest bit closer and for a moment Jungwoo thinks he might kiss him again. Instead, he lifts his hand and presses his lips to Jungwoo’s knuckles, leaving a burning imprint on his skin.

“Don’t worry,” Doyoung says with a tone of finality, gently placing their entwined hands down his lap, “We’ll meet again, I’ll make sure of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading <3 
> 
> find me on:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yooodles)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/yooodles)


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